Forgotten Class
by Millennium Magic
Summary: "They called it the ship of dreams." Atemu couldn't run from his troubles forever, but it was Fate's hand that landed him on the fabled Titanic, along with a certain cerulean-eyed nobleman. Full summary inside; prideshipping.
1. Chapter 1

_The long-suffering and constantly neglected second-class passengers finally get their voice._

_Prideshipping. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, and I'm fairly certain I'd be in deep trouble if I had owned the Titanic, no? Especially since, given the chance, I would have followed in Bruce Ismay's footsteps_

_This chapter has a lot of talking._

_Note: The story is completely AU. I have even changed the ages of some of the characters, most noticeably Rebecca, who is a young woman instead of a girl. Please don't kill me._

_All mistake are my own, as I have no beta._

_Summary: They called it the ship of dreams, and it was-it really was.  
Atemu Sennen couldn't run from his troubles forever. It was only a matter of time, he supposed, before everything finally caught up to him. And when events beyond his control force him to purchase a second class ticket on the Unsinkable Ship-the RMS _Titanic-_in an effort to save his younger brother in the loosest sense of the world, his life will be changed in ways he cannot even begin to comprehend. Pride and love clash, and as plots threaten to overwhelm the delicate balance of the ship, will Atemu even survive to witness the final destruction of the doomed ship? After all, forming a rivalry with Seto Kaiba, famed American businessman, has got to have its drawbacks. Prideshipping._

_I am shit at summaries._

_

* * *

_

They called it the ship of dreams. A magnificent structure built within the span of three years by some three thousand workers, it was rumored to be the epitome of ocean liners.

Aye, the White Star Line had outdone themselves this time. Or so they thought. Really, he wasn't sure if he should be impressed or repulsed. It was obvious that the White Star Line had gone to great expense building this ship, spending well over a million. Of course, the expense paled in comparison to the _reason _for the construction of these three sister ships—_Titanic, Britannic _and _Olympic_—but what else did one expect? With a sigh, the man took a sip of his brandy, leaning back in his chair and smirking lightly to himself. It was all about _competition. _In 1906, a shipping company called the Cunard Line launched two new ships. Large and comfortable, these quickly became the most popular ships in the world.

Of course the White Star Line had to compete. Losing business didn't impress the superiors.

"'Ay there, sir! Ya gonna drink that, eh? Lookin' mighty fine—let me finish that for ya!"

"No thank you. I assure you, gentleman, I am quite capable of downing a simple beverage." As if to prove his point, the crimson-eyed man raised his glass to his lips, quickly downing the fiery spirits before lightly placing the glass down and raising one brow. _Now run off to your gutter—I am quite busy._

Even without him speaking, the drunkard seemed to get the gist of what he seemed to be conveying.

"Bloody rich people! Comin' down 'ere and muckin' the place up, fillin' it with their rich smells and…"

But he wasn't listening. The fact that this man seemed to think he was rich was certainly amusing—in fact it was the current train of thought running through his mind. _Whoo whoo._

Ignoring the shouts and brawls around him, and young man pushed himself away from the counter, lightly straightening his jacket. He had only been able to afford a second-class ticket, but it was better than third class, sure as hell. Sixty-five dollars (or thirteen pounds) was nothing to sneeze at; he had been saving for some time. Because while he certainly ridiculed the company, he did fancy himself a trip—he conveniently had affairs in New York to take care of, and trying to avoid them any longer would spell disaster. In retrospect, this probably meant he should have just purchased a third class ticket, but the thought was rather unappealing, so he left it at that. He didn't need a cabin full of strangers poking through his belongings.

A derisive snort came from the young man's nose as tanned fingers lightly closed around the empty brandy glass. He sounded no better than those travelling first class.

"Mr. Sennen!" The young man looked up, arching his customary brow. "You done there?"

"Yes." His answer was simple, though his eyes were narrowed. Indeed… he certainly would be done if he didn't get a move on. He still had some important affairs to take care of and the _Titanic _was scheduled to leave tomorrow at noon.

"Leaving the country, Atemu?" The man looked down as a young woman draped herself across his arm, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Mmm. I'm afraid so," he replied, tossing her a sultry smirk. "I have matters to settle, you see."

"Aww… you ain't in trouble with the law again, are you?"

"I could be, though it's certainly not the kind of laws the government would pass," he admitted, tilting his head full of odd, tri-colored hair to the side.

"We'll certainly miss you, sir," the woman simpered. "You've become a favorite around here."

"Shame those of the male variety don't think so," he said, chuckling.

"Jealous," was all the woman said. Atemu smirked, darting down to peck her on the lips lightly before withdrawing, laughing to himself.

This light banter continued for a few more moments before Atemu once again stood, this time wincing as he slapped some money onto the counter, lightly grabbing his black hat—which looked faintly like something a clichéd, mask-wearing Spanish swordsman would wear—and shoving it into his head, effectively hiding his strange hair save the golden bangs that hung down by his face. Annoying things, really. He blew them out of his line of sight and walked out the door.

.x.

"You're really leaving this time, eh? Got your bloody ticket and everything?"

"Indeed, thief."

"Your constant money-borrowing finally caught up to you?"

Atemu pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. "Indeed."

"Ah, well, good luck." The white-haired man across from him abruptly stood up, reaching across the table to shake the other man's hand. "You were fun to work with. Though if you really have to pay these guys back, why the hell would you go for second class? Third class tickets are worth thirty-five of your precious American dollars, which is thirteen of your prized European pounds, while second is worthy almost two times that amount!"

"I don't need strangers poking into my business," Atemu said coolly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes again as he referred to the living conditions of those in third class. "What I do is none of their business, and I'm at least hoping to get a cabin to myself."

"Fat chance, Pharaoh."

"Honest to goodness I am not kidding here, thief—what the hell is with that nickname?"

"You remind me of a rock I saw once."

A strained silence penetrated the room. The two men sat across from each other inside a rather messy-looking room. Papers and artifacts were strewn all over the place, and in the center was a desk. A couple cabinets lined the walls, but they were seldom used, it seemed. _After all, the floor is a _much _better place to keep all of this._

"That must have been one good-looking rock."

"You flatter yourself, Pharaoh. It was one of those crummy Egyptian tablets."

"Invading museums again, Bakura?"

The comment was ignored as the white-haired man continued, "And speaking of which, I hear they're shoving one of those mummies on board that ship you're so keen to travel on."

"The _Titanic_?_" _Atemu looked shocked. "Why on Earth would they do that?"

"I hear they're used for medicines, especially the animal ones. They grind them up into dust and use them in remedies."

"That is disgusting, thief."

Bakura just shrugged. "Probably for some other museum, then. Because seeing a three-thousand-year-old dead woman must be pretty damn exciting. Some princess or whatever. Amun-something. Not so holy now, eh?" Bakura grinned creepily, something that never boded well for anyone on the receiving end of that particular expression.

"Well, Pharaoh," Bakura said at last, "I suppose I could help you out a bit. I guess I owe you."

"You do. I paid a good sum of money for your release—the least you can do is—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Bakura scowled as he suddenly vanished under his desk. A few thumping noises and a whirr sounding like it belonged to an engine soon followed.

Atemu didn't want to know.

"Secret compartments," Bakura said as he poked his head over the side of the desk, brow knitting itself into a complacent frown. He then handed Atemu something wrapped in cloth.

"Pawn it off and I'll kill you."

"In New York?"

Bakura just eyed him. Atemu snorted, shoving the item into his pocket. "I'll treat it with care, thief."

"Correction: You'll treat _them _with care." Bakura smirked as he suddenly handed Atemu another item. Instead of a simple box shape, like the first "gift" had been, this one was elongated, with a handle and a strange ball that looked like it was connected to two mini ax-blades.

How pleasant.

"And these are?"

Bakura suddenly leaned towards him, eyes penetrating and deadly. Atemu found himself swallowing nervously.

"Ultimate weapons of great power. If all of them are gathered together in one place, the wielder of such will gain untold amounts of supremacy!"

Atemu looked at him, horror etching across his face. Suddenly Bakura laughed, slapping him on the back.

"Naw. They're just fancy gold trinkets I thought you might like. You'll have fun with that box-one though, you puzzle nut. Lifted them off that museum exhibit."

"You know, for someone who claims to hate museums, you sure spend a lot of your time there."

"That's different and you know it. Now begone! I'm tired of looking at you." Bakura smirked and Atemu chuckled, lifting the brim of his hat.

"See you in hell, thief."

"Haven't you heard, _Pharaoh? _I'm too _cool _for Hell."

His friends needed better jokes.

By the time he stumbled back into his apartment he had lost all track of the real world. What time was it actually? He did not know. What time did the ship leave tomorrow? He did not know. How many people had he seen after his chat with Bakura? A couple, actually. He had gone to say goodbye to Marik who, after a brief moment of shock, had started howling with laughter. When asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?" he merely grinned, gesturing to the solemn woman with rod-straight black hair and sapphire eyes.

.x.

"_My cousin, Ishizu—her brother is working on that ship." Marik chuckled heartily into his glass of… whatever, finally calming down enough to answer Atemu, who was currently consuming his first alcoholic beverage, not counting the two he had drank earlier, though that was hours ago. Marik's house was nicely furnished and of respectable size, though he was nowhere near being rich. The house itself had been nicely furnished, however, giving it a comfy, cozy theme. He was willing to bet five pounds that it had all been Ishizu's doing._

"_And what, pray tell, is he working as?" The tri-color-haired male asked skeptically._

"_You're kind of a downer, you know that?" Marik said with a scowl._

"_You tell me that every time we get together," Atemu snapped._

"_There's the Atemu I remember. Damn, you're really uptight about this, aren't you?"_

_Atemu sighed wearily, rubbing his head, where the beginnings of a headache were beginning to form._

"_I know, I know. Bakura looked like he was thinking the same thing when I talked to him earlier, you insufferable copycat."_

"_Shit, man. Is it really that serious?" Marik looked as if he was torn between laughing and expressing rarely seen sympathy._

_Atemu took another sip of his drink. He still wasn't quite sure what it was yet._

"_And what gave you that idea?"  
"The fact that you used the word 'copycat.'" A smirk._

"_Shove it." A growl._

"_See, there you go again. What are you afraid of?"_

_Atemu sighed. "I'm afraid they're going to go after Yuugi."_

"_Why the hell would you worry about that? Isn't your brother married to that internationally famous actress?"_

"_She's a dancer. My, you've certainly been thinking a lot lately."_

"_Haven't I? My point still stands: They'll be fine."_

"_I just want to get this over with. I'm sick of running from these men, dammit!" Atemu suddenly cursed as the glass he had been holding shattered, spilling bright red liquid all over the carpet. "I'm a god-damned fugitive in my own country!"_

"_I thought you said you were originally _from_ America."_

"_I am. But it doesn't mean I ever wanted to go back." Atemu stood, thankful that the drink hadn't spilled on him. The fact that it hadn't was strange, but he wasn't going to push the matter. "I have to go. It was nice knowing you, Marik."_

"_Haha. Wait!" Marik suddenly reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pistol, a devilish smirk on his face. He chucked it at Atemu, who barely caught it._

"_And what, pray tell, is this for?"_

"_You never know, Pharaoh. You never know."_

_Rather than castrating his 'friend' for using the nickname he had come to loathe within the span of sixty minutes, Atemu started towards the door. When he got there, however, Ishizu, who had apparently moved from the main room, stopped him._

"_If you see my brother, please send him my love."_

_Atemu's gaze was directed to her throat where a large golden necklace rested nicely on her collarbone. She caught his gaze, lifting his chin with two of her fingers._

"_The Millennium Tauk. I am correct in assuming that Bakrua gave you _two _of such items?"_

"_I suppose." Atemu jerked his head back. Ishizu handed him his hat._

"_I see." Atemu turned to leave again when Ishizu grabbed his arm, this time with a strange look in her eyes._

"_The Star will fall," she murmured. Her eyes then cleared just as suddenly. "Be careful, Atemu."_

"_Yes… I will." And with that rather creepy statement, he shook his head and wandered into the streets of Liverpool itself._

.x.

Of course, that hadn't been the oddest thing that had happened all day. After that interesting encounter, he had met up with Duke Devlin, the owner of a local pawnshop. That meeting had been brief; Atemu had only become associated with him through the rather shifty business Bakura had offered him a spot in.

Still, the money hadn't been much, and he had spent most of it on his own place… and a couple other frivolities that, he admitted grudgingly, were probably not the wisest… investments.

No. The real shock today had come in the form of a chance meeting between him and a person he had heard about, but never seen.

.x.

Atemu leaned against the corner of the street, looking around silently. _Titanic _left Liverpool tomorrow at noon, and he was ready. His few belongings had been packed and were now waiting by the door to his rather small lodgings. Bakura hadn't been the only one chastising him for his thoughtless 'Buying of the Second Class Ticket.' In fact, Rebecca, after very nearly mothering—yes, mothering—him to death had lectured him for the very same thing.

Rebecca Hawkins was the only daughter of Sir Arthur Hawkins, a rich English businessman and, needless to say, her friendship with a "scoundrel" such as Atemu was frowned upon. Rebecca had often said she'd have given him the money he needed, but she said her father would find out—he always did—and Atemu would be even worse off than before. Atemu had merely smiled; placing a hand on her shoulder and telling her he'd be fine.

He didn't know what to expect. When he arrived at the backdoor, she had already been waiting for him with tears in her eyes.

"_Rebecca…" But she had hurled herself forward, sobbing, into his arms. Atemu had sighed deeply, lightly stroking her hair._

"_Please don't go… I'll find some way to help you—I'll convince my father to give you the money, whatever it takes! Just please, please don't go…"_

_They had stayed like that for another ten minutes, Atemu holding Rebecca gently until her tears had subsided enough for him to speak._

"_I have to go," was all Atemu said. His tone was flat—blunt. He knew she didn't like it when he tried to breaks things to her softly. It just made her angrier. "And you know it wouldn't do any good, Becs. Your father would never consent, and we'd both be in trouble, no?"_

"_But you don't understand…"_

"_And what don't I understand?" Atemu said, unable to keep the sigh out of his voice. He'd miss Rebecca, he really would—she was a great girl, always fun to be around; always laughing, joking and willing to have a good time, even if it meant being thrown into a group of people not of her social class—that being the class of an aristocrat._

"_I love you… Please stay with me," Rebecca whispered, clutching his shirt. Atemu sighed again, lightly placing his hand over her own._

"_But you know I have to go, Becs. It's been great, it really has—you're a wonderful woman, and if your husband doesn't appreciate you or doesn't treat you right, you look me up in New York and I will board the nearest ship, come back and kick his ass. How does that sound?"_

_It must have sounded pretty good, if her laughter was any indication._

"_I suppose… I suppose you have to let go of everything eventually, right?" She said at last. "And I once read that… if you truly love someone, the best thing you can do for them is to let them go."_

_Atemu was startled by her words; he hadn't expected this whole turn of events. He had always viewed them as good friends, nothing more._

_But that didn't mean he couldn't give her one last present before he left. "Until we meet again then, love," he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her once before pulling back and walking down the path, never looking back, even when he heard her voice whisper "Good-bye" one last time._

_She would do well. She was funny, smart… and beautiful. He knew that, whatever man she decided to wed, would have to consider himself the luckiest being on earth._

_He knew he had, in their brief friendship._

That was why he found himself smiling softly in memory as carriages rolled past on the cobblestone streets, ignoring the look sent his way. Finally he pushed himself away from the rather damp wall, chuckling lightly. He tugged at the black jacket he wore, glancing around once or twice before walking down to the docks. The sun was setting, and to his surprise, he was the only one there. Across from him, a little down the ways, lay the ship that would carry him thousands of kilometers across the Atlantic Ocean.

_Titanic._

He shivered, pulling at the edges of his jacket again, scowling. A mixed blessing this trip was, indeed. On one hand, he got to experience the maiden voyage of the Unsinkable Ship, the RMS _Titanic_. This ship would be, of course, carting him away to what could be his imminent doom, especially if he didn't find some way to come up with the money he needed. A small fortune for him was mere pocket money for the rich, after all. Just the thought of them made his blood boil. Every party they threw, every fancy outfit they bought and every word they spoke… It was like a mockery towards every small thing he had accomplished; everything he considered a simple success.

"Now what's someone like you doing out here all alone, eh?" Atemu turned around slowly, eyes narrowing as he recognized the owner of the voice. A man with a rather burley build, blonde hair and hideous sideburns was suddenly next to him, arms crossed.

"Go away, Raphael. I am not in the mood to listen to your antics as you repeat your master's words like a well-trained puppet. Or perhaps 'parrot' would be a better word. Polly want a cracker?" Atemu sneered.

Raphael's face had darkened considerably, though he merely leaned on the rail next to Atemu, ignoring the other's stiff posture.

"Actually, Atemu, since we're speaking about birds, I must confess, you remind me of one. Considerably, might I add."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"A caged bird with his wings clipped, longing to fly away from his captors, but unable to. Instead, he just stays in his cage, waiting for his own masters to let him out to play. That's what you are, Atemu: A flightless sparrow. Alone, caged… with nowhere to go. A true puppet on strings."

Atemu was shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else he did not know. "Listen, Raphael, tell Dartz that I have his money, all right?"

"That's not what I heard."

Atemu suddenly whirled around, his fist connecting with Raphael's nose. He grimaced in satisfaction as he heard the bones shatter and saw blood gush out, effectively rendering the blonde useless for a few seconds. Still, being a thug, he supposed they were used to this thing. So instead of being stunned for the amount of time the crimson-eyed man needed to get out of there, Raphael surprised him by reaching out and grabbing his wrist, causing Atemu to hiss in slight pain and large amounts of frustration.

He had just made a very, very stupid move. He could feel the pistol banging against his hip, and it irked him that he could not reach it, as Raphael had since seized his other limb.

"Let me go, Raphael," he could coldly. Blood continued to pour out of the thug's nose, which he wiped away using his sleeve. Atemu's nose wrinkled and he tried to pull away, snarling when he found he could not. The force of the movement had knocked his hat off, sending it… somewhere. He really couldn't see it.

"Listen, you little punk," Raphael hissed, dangerously close. "I—" But he didn't get to finish, for at that moment Atemu remembered the strange rod Bakura had given him. With narrowed eyes he wrenched his hand away from Raphael, using it to fish the item out of his coat before swinging it towards Raphael's body. He didn't know where it connected, but he suddenly saw a flash of gold, followed by the pressure around his wrist vanishing, rendering him free.

"Tell your boss I have his money," Atemu growled. "And that he doesn't have to keep sending his half-brained henchmen to come track me down!" He then looked down at the rod in his hands, eyes widening as he saw the cloth had slipped, revealing bits of shining gold. Hurriedly he covered it up, glancing around before turning and running back down the alleys he had used to get here. However, upon entering the main street, he suddenly found himself crashing into something, hard.

"Watch where you're going!" A voice said. The tone of the voice was what made Atemu turn around, his eyes narrowed and mouth open as he prepared a sharp retort. His hand was just inches away from the weapon he had concealed on his person, and the strange items he had been carrying had mercifully stayed within reaching distance.

However, the stranger got to them first.

"I seem to recall seeing these pieces somewhere."

Crimson eyes met cold cerulean as Atemu really looked at his newest tormentor. The man was tall—taller than Raphael, certainly—with chestnut brown hair, streaked with red and gold. He wore a long white coat, as was the fashion these days, it seemed, and he was _not_ impressed.

"Bravo, sir. I applaud your sharp eyes." _Mm… and I do mean 'sharp'…_

Atemu suddenly felt himself be hauled to his feet. His face smoothed itself out until he had his usual air of confidence back. He knew this man was one of those rich nobles, and it did not help his already sparking temper.

_Ignition._

"I would watch your tone if I were you."

Atemu raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me, sir, but we are in the middle of a very busy street. Are you sure you want your fellow bloody aristos to see this?" Atemu felt himself breathe again as the hand around the front of his shirt slackened, allowing him to sink to the ground. He smoothed out the garment again.  
"Now see what you've done?"

"It doesn't look any different to me," the stranger said, mouth twisting into an odd kind of leer. "You look just as filthy as you did before. Stumble out of a tavern?"

"My personal affairs are none of your business! Don't you have tea to sip girlishly?"

"Shows how little you know of _true _business affairs. Clearly you have been raised with preconceived notions about the life of what you dub 'aristos.' I don't know why I expected anything more."

"You hypocritical—"

"Watch it—those are some pretty big words," the man said coldly. Atemu's hands curled into fists.

"I'm sure you'd know all about 'big words.' You must use them all the time to maintain your assumed air of intelligence. Ever get tired of lying to yourself?"

"_My personal affairs are none of your business,_" the man mocked, smirking. Atemu's eyes widened. "Now, if you don't mind, I have better things to do than exchange paltry words with peasants."

"Get back to your tea and crumpets, rich boy," Atemu snarled, snatching the box that Bakura had given him before the strange man could make a go for it. The other man merely chuckled, giving him one last glare before sweeping past him.

Atemu's eyes burned with rage. How _dare _he? How dare that pompous, arrogant little… He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Obviously some people had stopped to stare, but it had only been a fleeting thing.

An item caught his eye. He reached down, grabbing his hat. He didn't even pause to wonder how it came to be here. He walked towards his lodging, forcing the object onto his head, trying to rid himself of the rather unpleasant experience between him and the cerulean-eyed man. But then again, it didn't really matter, did it?

It wasn't like he was ever going to see that man again.

* * *

_A little note: This was a story I had written months ago and only discovered today, while I was sorting my folders. Upon finding this I soon realized that I had finished three chapters and was halfway through the fourth, so I hope to add those soon, if you guys like the story well enough._

_Titanic has always been a sense of fascination for me, and I always thought, well… it doesn't matter. Either way, please review and tell me what you think, for I'm still a new prideshipper (in terms of writing), and some feedback would be much appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

_I am aware that Atemu's character is rather… different. I am taking a few liberties, I know; I hate OOC characters as much as you do… at least when they're weak and pathetic. I'll try to keep them closer to their original designs, but I may have to alter it somewhat._

_Still sticking to my "I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or the_ Titanic_" claim._

_Shame, really._

_Please review and let me know if you liked it._

_-x-_

It wasn't the busy docks that worried him. Nay, it was the fact that anyone—_anyone—_could be snatched from this crowd without notice.

It honestly wasn't a very comforting thought; he had actually found himself glaring at any remotely suspicious passerby, which was completely unfair, he knew, but the threat of Dartz sending more thugs to round him up was a very real possibility.

He couldn't take that chance.

Pulling the brim of his hat lower, resulting in a shadow cast over his face, Atemu scanned the crowd once more before sighing and looking up, crimson eyes locating the rather large, imposing figure of the RMS _Titanic _herself. And despite his rather negative view on the whole thing, especially since seventeen or so people had died _while building it_, he had to admit—albeit with a small grimace—that it truly was a wonder to behold.

He could tell by the shining faces around him that many people felt the same.

"_See here, sweetie? This ship's taking us to the new world!"_

"_I can't believe we actually got tickets!"_

"_I heard that—"_

"_Did you know—"_

"_Oh, George was so excited!"_

It went on. He couldn't help but feel slightly warmed—and safe. After all, _Titanic _was said to be the safest ship on the waters! Virtually unsinkable, he had been told.

Plus it would be pretty hard for Dartz's thugs to do anything to him while he was surrounded by hundreds of other passengers, now wouldn't it? He smiled.

Two thousand, two-hundred and twenty-four people. All those souls aboard this one ship. Atemu looked up again, eyes fixating on the orange funnels with the black stripe around the top. The bottom of the ship itself was black, with a white stripe around the "brim." He knew the words R.M.S. _Titanic _would be painted on the stern.

_Titanic, _meaning "huge and powerful." A fitting name.

Lightly tossing his sack of necessities over his shoulder, he wandered over to a stack of crates, sitting down on some. He could board now, he knew, but it was only eleven twenty-seven—he still had plenty of time.

"Excuse me, sir…" Atemu looked down into the wide eyes of a young boy with black hair—pulled back into a ponytail—and gray eyes. Atemu exhaled, but he nodded his head towards the child, smiling despite himself.

"Is there something I could help you with?" He said, lightly raising the brim of his hat so the child could see him properly. The child smiled.

"Have you seen my brother around? I lost him in the crowd…" The child shuffled his feet, which was when Atemu noticed how finely dressed he was. His eyes narrowed but he took another deep breath, hoping to calm his rising anger.

After all, it was only a child—he shouldn't be against this kid because of his parents, right? Speaking of which…

"I do not know. Is he with your parents?"

The boy shuffled nervously. "Naw, my parents are dead," he said, shrugging lightly. "I'm travelling with my brother to his new firm in America. He's a big-shot CEO!" The boy said proudly. Atemu nodded rather stiffly, forcing his protests back down his throat.

It wasn't their fault, it wasn't their fault… He repeated this to himself several times.

Fuck, he was getting more prejudiced by the second.

"I'm afraid not, sorry," he said, realizing that he didn't even know what the boy's brother looked like.

"It's all right." The boy fidgeted with his jacket for a moment, which Atemu looked at with barely contained jealousy. He swallowed before looking away.

"Hey, sir…"

"Hmm?"

"What's your name?"

Atemu looked startled. Rich people, including children, usually never bothered to find out the names of the common riffraff below them.

"Atemu Sennen," he said at last. The boy smiled, reaching out to shake the stunned other's hand.

"Mokuba Kaiba," he said cheerfully. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sennen! You can call me Moki or Mokuba."

Atemu chuckled, finding he sort of liked the kid, views on society aside. It was hard not to, really—the child was so bubbly and happy-looking. "Atemu works," he said, smiling back.

"Okay!" Mokuba paused. "Hey, are you coming on the ship, too? Ehm… _Titanic_?"

"Yes," Atemu said, blinking.

"Oh, hey! Maybe you could come visit me and my brother!"

Atemu chuckled again. "I'm afraid not, Mokuba," he said. "Second-class passengers aren't allowed to wander the first-class area of the ship."

Mokuba frowned at that. "That's stupid," he muttered. He then paused, peering at him so intensely that Atemu felt like he was being silently judged. "But my brother said that you could… if you were in the company of a first class passenger! And besides, you don't look like third or second-class. You look like you belong in first class," he said at last, ignoring the surprised look that flittered across Atemu's face briefly.

"Why did you think that?" It wasn't like he was very finely dressed. He had managed to get a clean white shirt and his black jacket had turned out nicely, he admitted. His pants were also black. It was nothing special.

"You look… different," Mokuba said at last. He looked like he was trying to remember something. "… Regal," he said at last. "And you have really pretty eyes."

Atemu ruffled the kid's hair, saying nothing.

"I have to go now, Atemu." He looked like he wanted to ask something else. Atemu inclined his head, a silent sign for him to ask whatever it was that was bothering him.  
"Could I come visit you in your cabin?" Mokuba burst out.

"If you'd like," Atemu mused, inwardly amused. "One hundred twenty-six."

"One two six," Mokuba repeated. "Awesome! I'll see you later, then? I'll check the first class docking for my brother. He might be waiting for me! It was nice meeting you!"

"Wait, Mokuba!" Atemu said, getting off the crates. "I'll go with you to the docking ramp."

"Okay… why?"

Atemu hesitated before deciding to be blunt. "Because there are many, many people here who might try kidnapping a little boy like you."

"I'm not a little boy!"

Atemu looked amused. "Of course not. But my point still stands." He knew this from experience. If there were men willing to try and press him off the streets, then… He saw the look of doubt on Mokuba's face.

"Not me, of course," Atemu said quickly. Mokuba watched him for a moment longer before smiling.

"I know. I trust you!"

That was rather fast, Atemu decided, resisting the urge to display that publicly. He never understood kids, really.

"Let's go."

The two walked towards the boarding docks, mindful of any sudden moves from anyone. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, though. It made him have to resist yet _another _urge—this time the one to twitch violently.

He was sure that wouldn't go over that well, actually. People in the area might think he was having a violent seizure and cart him away to a mental asylum, and he couldn't afford—literally and metaphorically—to miss this voyage.

Plus he couldn't shake the fact that, by being here, he was helping to make history. He wondered how many other people would travel this same ship after him, even when he was dead.

"Atemu?"

Atemu looked down, his eyes clearing as he forced himself to relax _again._

"Yes?"

"We're here."

Atemu looked up. They were at the front of the boarding deck, Mokuba's wrist held tightly in Atemu's hand. The crimson-eyed man let go, ignoring the young boy as he scowled lightly and rubbed his sore wrist.

"Ticket, please."

Atemu stopped. _Shit…_

"He was helping me, sir," Mokuba said. "I got separated from my brother, and…"

"Are you young master Kaiba?" The officer guarding the door said sharply. Mokuba squeaked, ducking his head and nodding. "Your brother has been looking for you. Please, come this way." The steward made to escort Mokuba inside, but Mokuba quickly turned back to Atemu.

"He's with me!"

"Does he have a ticket?"

"I'm second class, sir."

"Then go through the second class docks!"

"I think it would be an inconvenience to those waiting behind us if he were to have to shove by them on his way down," Mokuba said. Atemu blinked.

"I can go back down, it's really no big—" he swallowed as Mokuba gave him the Look. You know, that infuriating puppy-dog look!

The Eyes!

He thought he'd seen the last of those.

And apparently the dock officer had as well. Either that or he'd never experienced the full force of the Eyes, in which case Atemu felt sorry for the poor bloke, as in the hands of adorable people, they were extremely hard to resist. Or rather, they were practically _impossible _to withstand without caving. And he knew that. Yuugi had used them several times. Hell, Yuugi was so good at it you could see him giving you the Eyes in his goddammed _letters._

They were that powerful.

"All right, but if he causes any trouble," the officer grumbled as Mokuba smiled, grabbing Atemu's sleeve and pulling him in.

"_And make sure he goes _straight _to his class!_" The officer called after them.

"Yes, sir!" Mokuba giggled, catapulting his rather helping friend down the corridors. On the way the shorter male giggled, pulling Atemu through a café with _real ivy _growing on the walls.

"Gods…" Atemu whispered as Mokuba finally slowed to a walk. Even the kid, young as he was (though he couldn't be older than twelve) knew that if they disobeyed the officers bad things would happen. "This is amazing!" Atemu hissed. Mokuba smiled.

"I know, right?" Mokuba giggled. They suddenly found themselves at the top of the most beautiful staircase he had ever seen.

The wooden was almost golden-brown, polished to absolute perfection. Intricate wood designs had been carefully carved into the rails, which led down to the main part of the staircase, where they proceeded to continue down on each side of the stairway itself, which was split in two with another woodwork design on the rails, ending with a statue of Eros—or Cupid, as he was often known—who was holding a small light like a torch. Of course, there were bits of wire-metal mixed in, but it only made it look all the more complex.

At the top of the staircase, where Mokuba had pulled him to in the time they had been walking, there was a clock. Honor and Glory crowning Time.

Atemu lightly placed his hand on it, shaking his head in awe. Mokuba just smiled at him.

"Come on." The two proceeded down the stairs, stepping onto the marble floors below them. It was then that Atemu looked up.

"Holy mother of God." A glass dome stretched above them, with panes of different colors, shining the light into the ship itself.

Mokuba giggled.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, walking up to a finely dressed man. "Do you know where I might find the second class staterooms?"

The man looked at him. "Now why would you want to know that?"

Mokuba swallowed. "Uh…"

The man just chuckled. "Down this way," he said, pointing to the right.

"Thank you, sir!"

"Wait—aren't you young Mokuba Kaiba?"

"Umm…"

"Your brother was looking for you. He said he'd be in his stateroom." The man chuckled again and it was then that Atemu noticed the small terrier at his heals and the pretty woman—obviously pregnant—at his side.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks Mister—"

"Astor."

"Right. Mr. Astor," Mokuba grinned, turning and swooping down the newly revealed stairwell. It was definitely plainer than those of the first class, but it was still nice: Mahogany wood with a lightly carpeted floor.

"I think this is it," Atemu said, arching a brow and laughing. "I can make it from here. Thank you, young Kaiba," he said, using the last name and laughing again as Mokuba protested before realizing he was simply joking.

"I'll see you later, Atemu! Count on it! By the end of this trip, you'll be sick of me!" And with that, the thing Atemu suspected to be an imp in disguise vanished back up the staircase, leaving Atemu to navigate the hallway until he found his room. He checked the watch he carried with him.

Eleven fifty-two.

Wonderful. With a tired sigh the young man turned, looking at the room numbers before he finally found the one that matched his own.

_One two six. Hm._

Atemu opened the door, relieved to see that no one was in there. Sighing, he pulled his meager belongings inside. His suitcase had already been delivered, but he still had the sack over his shoulder—the one containing the two "Millennium Items" and a couple other belongings that he wasn't willing to trust anyone else with.

He closed the door, turning to check his surroundings.

It was better than he had hoped. Directly across from him was a mirror with shelves stacked with bottles built into the sides. Attached to said mirror on the lower right was a sink, and beside that was an empty surface for holding other things. Below the sink, near the bottom of the "vanity", were two drawers for holding other things. A low hum of approval escaped his throat and he had only begun to look.

Beside (to the left of) the dresser/vanity/thing was a set of bunk beds—one top, one bottom. A drape was pulled back, resting by the vanity, which revealed the fancy woodworking of the bed itself. As he drew his fingers across the bottom bunk's comforter he found himself purring. _So soft… _The pillow was fluffy and soft as well. Another hum of approval.

To the right of the vanity was a large, closed curtain. With a click of his tongue Atemu thrust the fabrics apart, revealing what he supposed were pull-downs, though what they pulled down into he was not sure.

He pulled out the one nearest the bottom, delighting in the plush-looking couch-thing that came out of it, willing to ignore the slightly floral design.

The cabin was perfect.

"Enjoying the cabin, eh?"

Atemu turned around, pistol drawn before he could stop himself.

"Whoa, whoa, man! I ain't gonna hurt ya!"

Atemu paused, eyes still narrowed and pistol still out, pointing at the man's neck.

"Who are you?" He demanded. The man was taller than him (big surprise—most people were) with golden hair and honey-brown eyes. He wore a white shirt and black pants with a brown vest over the shirt.

"My name's Joey Wheeler, mate. I'm your bunkmate, I suppose."

"Joy." Atemu's eyes were deadpan, but he didn't trust his so-called "bunkmate."

"Uh… you gonna put dat down? You're makin' me nervous," the other man admitted, scratching behind his head. Atemu snorted but he lowered the weapon, ever wary of the threat this man could pose. He looked strong enough.

With a suspicious eye cast on the other he pulled out one of his books, sitting on the couch while Joey stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"You can come in," Atemu snapped. Joey blinked but entered, closing the door behind him.

"Uh… What's your name?" Joey asked, a slight accent coloring his tone. Atemu recognized it.

"Atemu Sennen. You are going back to New York?"

"Yep."

"Mmm." Atemu sighed, flipping the page, almost laughing at how tense Joey was around him. Of course, it was entirely possible that Joey was working for Dartz, so Atemu kept to just glaring at him, before finally dropping the book and lunging forward, pistol ready.

"If you are working for Dartz, tell me now and maybe I won't blow your fucking head off!"

Joey squeaked—yes, _squeaked_—as he quickly stammered out that he didn't even know who Dartz was. The genuine honesty in his eyes satisfied Atemu, who breathed out a sigh of relief and shoved the weapon back in his jacket. Marik's gift really was useful, even if he new cabinmate was convinced he was a psychopath.

"I'm sorry," Joey said, looking like a cornered puppy.

"No, no…" Atemu rubbed his head. "It's not your fault. I'm just a bit paranoid."

"A bit?" Joey snorted. "You in some trouble or something?" It was like he had forgotten Atemu had just held a gun to his face.

Atemu frowned. "Yesterday, before boarding this ship, I was apprehended by a thug named Raphael. I guess it has made me a bit, umm… edgy."

"No kidding." Joey paused as well. "Well, my common sense says to stay away from you, but my friends said I've never been good at following that." He laughed and Atemu found himself smiling. "I suppose I could forgive you, just don't do it again or I'll unleash my Brooklyn Rage upon you!"

"… That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"… Shut up. Hey, do you know where I can find some food? I'm going to die of hunger if I don't get some soon," he groaned.

Atemu smiled. "I'm sure there's a café for us lowly second class passengers. I mean, look at us! Comfortable beds, a fairly spacious cabin and supposedly excellent food… Clearly we've been cheated," he said, laughing. Joey laughed as well, and it was hard to tell that Atemu had been holding a gun to his throat less than ten minutes ago. It was actually kind of odd. You'd think he'd take offence to something like that. Still, he wasn't about to complain. Especially since Joey looked like he could cause some trouble if he really wanted to. Really, Atemu didn't want more fighting. Hell, the voyage hadn't even begun and already he was tired!

"Hey!" Joey suddenly called, poking his head out into the hallway. "Everyone's heading up to the decks!"

"Probably to watch the launch," Atemu said, reaching into his pack and pulling out the strange golden box wrapped in purple velvet. "The ship's leaving Southampton in two minutes."

"Shit, man, why didn't you say so?" Joey looked excited, and Atemu found himself thinking of puppies again. He actually had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, "Fetch!"

"You can go watch it if you want," Atemu said. "I'm not going to shoot you."

"… You sure about that?"

"Positive," Atemu said, chuckling again. "I'll join you in a few… There's something I have to do first."

"All right," Joey said, flashing him a small grin before vanishing from the doorway.

Atemu sighed, standing up to close the door behind the blonde, watching as it closed with a barely audible "click."

He stared at the golden box some more once he was alone, sitting down on the side of his bunk—he'd closed the bottom, for it was easier to hide things—and placed the thing on the vanity. A few more moments of staring at it was all it took before he finally opened it.

He didn't know what he had expected to find, only that "pieces of gold in the shape of puzzles" was the last thing he'd thought of. Now he understood the whole "puzzle nut" joke that Bakura had made. Had it really been just yesterday? He shook his head again, reaching in and taking out one piece. There seemed to be strange designs on the smooth gold part, and upon carefully emptying the rest of the box, he concluded that the thing would indeed be pyramid-shaped when completed. Bloody Egyptians.

As for _how _he would complete it, well…

His stomach made a small lurch as he felt the floor move from under him. Well, not really, but that's what it felt like. He heard the _Titanic _blow its whistles even from his below-deck location.

He knew he should go up there now, but… The gold of the strange puzzle glinted and his eyes flashed almost hungrily. He needed to finish it. He didn't know how and he didn't know why, he just knew he had to. No questions.

And so, with that thought in mind, he slowly worked on putting the first couple of pieces together.

-x-

The opening of a door roused the sleeping man, causing him to groan and try burying his head in the crook of his arm in an effort to block out the offending sound and extra light that flooded into the room. He had turned off the cabin light and instead used the one built into the vanity. The mirror of which, he had concluded, was surprisingly small.

But he wanted this new light _gone._

With an almost feral growl he raised his head, only to see Joey standing there, laughing, with a bottle of what he assumed was some form of alcohol in his hand.

"Hey, Atemu, you missed the boarding party!"

"Boarding party?" The tanned man groaned in response, head flopping back onto his arms, as his golden bangs seemed to smother him at that moment.

"Boarding party, launch party, whatever. Yeah. A bunch of us met in the smoking room."

Atemu wondered if Joey was this hyped up because of alcohol or some other reason. Maybe he had been slightly drunk before…

Atemu then glanced at the two empty bottles beside him.

Or maybe _he _was just drunk.

"What's that you got there?" Joey asked, walking over to him, whistling as he saw the gold pieces. "That's one fancy decoration you got yourself there!" He said. Atemu didn't have enough energy to sneer or growl again. He just moaned, head still in his arms. Joey poked him. This time he did growl. Joey moved back, grinning, he knew.

"Puzzle… mrrf… must finish…"

"Is that what you've been doing this whole time? That's… that's pathetic, sorry to say. No wonder you fell asleep."

"Gotta… gotta finish the puzzle…"

"Well, mate, you only have one piece left."

"… Neeerg."

Joey poked him again. Atemu tried to curl himself into a tight ball, ignoring the fact that he was sitting, and therefore could not do that. Lifting his head, his bleary eyes met the strange inverted pyramid shape that had taken form in front of him. Was there really only one piece left? He tried to open his eyes a bit more.

"Hey, man, I don't mean to pry, but what's with your hair?"

Atemu reached up, fingering his bangs. Ah, right… He had taken the hat off while completing the puzzle, and Joey hadn't seen his hair before. "Iunno…" He muttered.

"Almost as weird as your eyes."

"Wassthematterwithmyeyes?" Atemu slurred. Joey looked confused.

"What's the matter with my eyes?" Atemu asked, this time coughing to clear his voice of sleep.

"Oh. Nothing it's just… I ain't never seen someone with eyes like yours before. Neh… They're kind of intimidating."

"I've gotten that before," Atemu murmured, resisting the urge to flop back down and go right back to sleep.

"Err… sorry if I offended you."

"Like I said, I've gotten it before." Atemu yawned, not even attempting to hide it this time. It was then he noticed his hand was hurting, like something was digging into it. Uncrossing him arms—sore from being used as a pillow—he slowly uncurled his right fist, revealing a gold piece with a strange eye in the center. He tried to recall what the eye was. Ra? Horus?… Perhaps Wadjet? It was hard to remember.

Then he realized it was the last piece and he had to swallow to keep himself from shaking.

"Man… are you all right?"

"Must finish puzzle."

"You kind of just—"

"Must finish puzzle."

"—blanked out there, and—"

"Must finish puzzle."

"—you got this really freaky look in your eyes now—"

"_Must finish puzzle._"

"Just put the last piece in!"

"Okay."

Joey sent him a look. Atemu just stared at the empty space in front of the pyramid.

"… You gonna put it in?"

"In a minute."

Another look. Atemu just paused, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"Puzzle nut."

"That's what Bakura always said."

"… I'm going to go back and join the boys in the smoking room."

"Oh, yeah, tell the beer I said hello."

Ignoring the other confused look Joey sent him, Atemu finally reached out, ignoring the imprint that the piece had left in his hand, and placed the final piece inside the pyramid. He waited a few moments, as if at any moment, the spirit of someone long dead would pop out and curse him. Of course, if it was a genie, he might not mind as much…

Nothing.

Ah, well, it was a nice looking piece, and it even had a loop at the top, as if it had once been worn around someone's neck.

Atemu suddenly coughed, his head exploding in pain as his fingers made contact with the now complete piece of jewelry.

"What in God's name—"

But he had no power over it anymore. His head whirled with spirals of color and light, somehow managing to cloud his eyes to anything that he should have been able to see, including the cabin. The edges around his sight were blurry, and he struggled to hold consciousness, before he finally slipped into the blackness that welcomed him in its arms.

-x-

"_My Pharaoh, there are far too many of them! We need to pull back or they will overwhelm our forces!"_

"_We must hold our position! Reinforcements are not far away! Men, hold the line! Don't let them breach the city!"_

His voice. It came from so far away, yet right in front of him at the same time.

He wasn't even surprised. A warm feeling rushed through his chest—adrenaline, mostly. His eyes burned, and he looked towards the black mark that was slowly moving through the bright sands of the desert. He didn't question; he was in command. The men lined up in front and behind him; listened to him; they obeyed his every order.

"_My Pharaoh, we can't take this chance!"_

"_That is for me to decide, Mahado!"_

His voice was full of authority. How could he have forgotten? He was the Pharaoh; he bowed to no man, for he was Ra on earth. Kemet—his kingdom—would not fall this day.

"_We will protect Tameri—the land bestowed upon us by the gods!"_

A roar followed his words.

"_We will not let her golden sands fall to the hands of these barbarians—we will triumph, and we will show them why they should fear us—Kemet!"_

Another roar. He smirked to himself. They listened to him, for he was their god. He held their lives in his hands, and the lives of so many others, dwelling within the sprawling white city behind him.

It was _his _kingdom, and it was _his _duty to protect it.

"_We fight for our wives—our children! Our loved ones and our family! We _will not fall_, for we are of the sand, the desert! It belongs to us, and to no one else!"_

He reared his stallion as he said that, the sound causing his men to cheer louder. His dark blue cape seemed to catch the wind, blowing lightly. The golden crown upon his brow felt light, no longer weighing him down with the responsibility that came with wearing it. He ignored the sand that stung his eyes, instead turning to face those who had _dared _come here, his sword drawn.

"_Mahado, Seth… are you with me?" _He turned to the two finely dressed men that were mounted next to him. Two pairs of eyes met his own: One set cerulean and one set brown.

"_To the death."_

Seth just nodded his head, sending him a look that Atemu returned, burning with heat and passion matching that of his High Priest's.

Atemu smirked, turning back to the approaching foreign army. _"And so it begins. In the name of Kemet, we fight!" _he yelled, raising his sword to the heavens as his army yelled around him, swirling and surging as he pointed forward.

Their lives were in his hands, for they were _his. He _was their Pharaoh, no other. He was the Lord of Two Lands, the Morning and the Evening Star; their God on Earth, and sole ruler of the kingdoms of Upper and Lower Egypt united into one.

It was _his. _And _nothing _would take it away from him.

"_In the name of our Pharaoh!" _He heard Seth shout across the battle cries of the army. _"We fight!"_

And then the whole mass started running. His white stallion met Seth's black one and Mahado's brown one, pace for pace, his hand out almost behind him, the silver and gold sword catching the light and shining it forward. The hot sun beat upon them, but it wasn't unwelcome. The gods were smiling upon them; they would not let Kemet fall, just as he wouldn't.

Then the armies clashed, and the cries of both sides, triumphant, dying and agonized, burned into the distant as the sun god watched from above.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hmm. Why can I only get Atemu in an Egyptian sequence?_

_Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, but I recently purchased the decaying ruins of the Titanic._

_I abuse telephone conversations. I'll try to stop doing that in the next chapter. Sorry for the wait.

* * *

_

"So ya settled in nicely, pal? No more pointing guns?"

"Yes, quite settled, and no, no guns," Atemu said, chuckling as he took a swig out of his drink. Joey grinned from across the table before tucking into his third dish. Really, Atemu was wondering where he _put _all this food.

"Man, this foodstuff is awesome!" Joey said enthusiastically. Atemu leaned back in his chair, looking amused. Joey just kept eating, giving Atemu the chance to survey the surroundings. It was exceptionally nice—oak-paneled and fitted with old-fashioned rectangular tables and swivel chairs, located on 'D' Deck, aft of the fourth funnel and aft staircase.

_Umm… _The satisfied purr left his throat before he could stop it. Joey didn't even bat an eyelash. Atemu let his hands roam to the golden puzzle, which now hung around his neck in plain sight. Resting said hands upon the Egyptian artifact, Atemu paused to think about the strange headache that had come after he had come in contact with it. Joey said he had stumbled in to see Atemu laying on the floor, unconscious, and that he had been "very grateful" that Atemu "hadn't chosen the top bunk."

Atemu just remembered waking up with a strange feeling, like he had been sleeping in the sun all day and had just woken up.

He didn't remember anything in between touching the puzzle and collapsing. Joey said that he'd muttered something, but he hadn't been able to tell what it was. At one point, Joey claimed, Atemu had opened his eyes and stood, looking so "fucking regal" that he had been tempted to drop to his knees and kiss the floor at his feet.

Atemu had told him that he was drunk and tired, and should therefore get some rest right away.

_Game, set, and match._

Atemu shook his head, wondering where that thought had come from.

"So you really came in through first class, eh?" Joey inquired happily.

"Oh, yes…"

"Lucky bastard. Didn't have to go through 'B' Deck like the rest of us?"

"I thought 'B' Deck was fairly enjoyable when I went through it."

"I s'pose," Joey grumbled, shooting him a look.

Atemu just chuckled. "Where's the blonde from last night, _Joseph?_" he purred teasingly, laughing at his cabin mate's suddenly red face. "She was quite a looker that one, yes?"

"Hey, man, paws off!" Joey said.

"Rest assured, Joey, she's all yours," Atemu replied, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. Joey scowled.

"Didn't your Ma ever teach you to share?"

"I wouldn't know. She died when my brother was born."

"Oh… Hey, man, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's hard to feel loss for someone I only knew for a scant three years."

Joey peered at him for a moment longer before shrugging and relaxing, pulling out his own smoke. "Shouldn't we be using da smoking room for this?"

"Doesn't look like anyone else is," Atemu said, but he tapped the cigar over a tray and threw the rest out.

"Waste, man."

Atemu merely scooted out of his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Well, Joey, I'll leave you and your lady love alone, shall I?" he asked as he spotted a rather attractive blonde woman making her way towards them. She was dressed rather simply, with a white and brown dress. Atemu chuckled as he saw Joey's eyes follow her chest, which was looking strained in her dress. He hit the blonde over the head.

"Her eyes are up there," he laughed, sauntering off with a small sway of his own, as well as his customary smirk.

He was just in time to here Joey mumbled a rather embarrassed "Hello" before he left the area, intent on exploring the other regions of this ship.

-x-

"Good day to you, sir!"

"And to you!" Atemu's response was polite, but he didn't stop to do more than ask how someone's day one, and even then only if he felt like taking a break from the brisk stroll. _Titanic _was currently docked in Queenstown, Ireland. Briefly, he wondered how far away Belfast was. The _Titanic_'s birthplace, as it was.

Ah, still, it was good not to have his stomach rolling around, though he certainly appreciated the fact that he was well on his way to getting his "sea legs", or so they said.

Making his way to the bow of the ship, he amused himself by counting the lifeboats he found. Hmm…

"Excuse me, sir, how many lifeboats are on this ship?" Atemu asked one of the officers.

"The _Titanic_'s unsinkable, boy—I wouldn't be worrying about that," the officer replied. Atemu felt irritated.

"I know that, but all the same, I'd like to know, if only to satisfy my own curiosity. The officer shot him an irritated look.

"Sixteen, not including the four collapsible boats."

_There now, was that really so hard?_

Atemu thanked the man, continuing his own voyage to the bow of the ship itself. Stopping, he leaned over the rail, looking at the still waters below them. He could hear the roar of the waters and the shrieking of the gulls that flew overhead. He looked beside him, almost laughing.

_Emerald country indeed._

He failed to see why the Irish would want to leave it. He then looked behind him. The first class deck was, naturally, higher up than the others, and boy did they enjoy lording it over the rest of them. As first class, they weren't restricted to any part of the ship save the crews' quarters and the boiler rooms.

_Lucky bastards._

He needed to think up a new complaint.

Still, he didn't believe it gave them the right to "slum", as it were. After all, the memory from that very morning clung to him sharply, causing him to scowl.

-x-

_Joey huffed as he pulled Atemu's still half-asleep form from the room, shaking him lightly._

"_Come on you lazy puzzle-nut! We're going to see some friends of mine!"_

"_Mmmmeeeeaaaarrrggghhh?"_

"_Third class."_

"_Mrrf."_

"_They didn't have enough for second class, and before you ask, yes they forced me to buy second class so I wouldn't miss out. Now come on; we'll be late if you don't get yourself moving!"_

_Atemu sighed, straightening himself and attempting to make himself more presentable. "All right, Joey—all right. Am I nice enough now?"_

"_Yup," Joey said, flashing him a grin before dragging the short male down the hallways and staircases until they reached their destination._

The rest of the trip had been rather uneventful. They had picked up Mai on the way there—which was how Atemu had been introduced to her—met Joey's pals Tristan Taylor and Duke Devlin (_honestly, what kind of name was 'Duke Devlin', anyway?_), along with Tristan's girlfriend, whose name he had been unable to remember. The five of them had sat down while Joey introduced them, and had gotten along just fine, until…

"_My, my… would you look at that?"_

"_So this is what the lower class does in their spare time! How quaint!"_

"_Ugh! Can't you smell the stench?"_

_Atemu looked up to see four or five first class passengers standing at the stairwell to the third class dining room. His eyes narrowed, but he did nothing. When he turned back to his companions, however, he saw that Miho—was that her name? —was blushing in shame and staring at the floor while Tristan and Duke looked angrily around the room. Joey, for his part, looked rather indignant, mirroring the expression on Atemu's own face, he was sure._

_There were five, now that he bothered to count: two solemn-looking males and three young, and obviously very wealthy females. Actually, the one female looked older, like she could be their mother. Hmm…_

"_Ugh! It's so foul! How can they all live so cramped together? Why, I hear they don't even have their own bathrooms! They have to _share_!"_

"_My nose! My nose!"_

"_Come now, Analeigh. You know they can't help it—the poor simpletons couldn't afford their own tickets. They must be used to the smell."_

_Atemu stood up, hands clenched, Joey at his side._

"_Excuse ma'am, but the only intrusive smell I sense seems to be coming from _you!_" The women gasped, tittering behind their fans. The older woman was the first to glare at him._

"_You dare speak to your betters in such a way?"_

"_When you find my betters, let me know."_

_The wealthy men looked amused._

"_Yeah! What makes you think that you're better den us?" Joey snapped._

_The women looked at him like it should be obvious._

"_Well, for one we have more money—"_

"—_we're better dressed—"_

"—_we don't smell—"_

"_I certainly beg to differ."_

"_You!" The older woman said, pointing at Atemu. "Crawl back to the gutter you came from!"_

"_Do you consider second class just as lowly as us?" Tristan yelled. The rich woman shrugged._

"_They certainly have more class!"_

"_Could be way they're _second _class!"  
"That is possibly the worst insult I've ever heard," Joey whispered._

"_Hmm… Thank you for the compliment, ladies. My second class companion and I are much obliged!" Atemu shouted, pulling out his second-class ticket with a flourish, like he would a simple playing card._

_The two young women gasped, giggling, while the older woman sniffed in disapproval._

"_Now if you'll kindly stop lowering yourselves to our level and be on your way…?"_

"_Please. I think we'd all breathe easier!" a random man from the crowd shouted._

"_I can't smell my alcohol over this stench!" Duke said, putting on a fake accent so that his "can't" sounded like "cawnt" and his "my" sounded like "ma"._

"_Daddy! Daddy, look!" One of the girls said, pointing to the inverted triangle hanging around Atemu's neck. The gold must have caught their attention._

"_Father, we want something like that!" The other woman proclaimed.  
"What, this? I hope you're willing to spend hours of your precious time piecing it together, then," Atemu sneered._

"_Now see here—" The men said, trying to intervene, but Atemu and Joey had already hopped onto the platform that was elevated in the middle of the room. The other tenants, still sitting at their tables, were cheering them on._

"_Heya, Joey Sirrah!" Atemu slurred, putting on a fake southern accent. "Ah do believe Ah dropped ma diamond bracelet back there!"_

"_Well, Alena," Joey said, slipping into a rich French accent. "Why don't you just go buy another one, yes?"_

"_But mah fatha said that Ah wasn't allowed to buy anymore when Ah lost the last one!" Atemu said, whining. "He said that Ah had already lost seven, and that he wasn't gonna buy me anymore!" With that Atemu stomped his foot, causing Joey to shuffle around and fuss over him like a ward._

"_Well, Madame, I do not think zat 'e would mind if you bought just one more, no?"_

_The third class passengers laughed. "Why, I 'eard that—"_

"_Alena! Alena, my daughter, come and greet your loving father!" Tristan said, stepping onto the stage and puffing out his chest. No one questioned why Atemu had an accent and Tristan didn't. Atemu fluttered his lashes at Joey before skipping off to go hug "her father."_

"_Fatha! Fatha! Ah lost it, Ah did! Ah didn't mean to, though! Will you buy me anotha one? Please, father, please?" Atemu pleaded, duplicating Yuugi's 'The Eyes.'_

"_Well… I told you that—"_

"_Oh Harold, hun," Miho said, stepping into the roll of 'mother.' "Let him have it, okay? We have _tons _of money!"_

"_Well… I suppose, Melinda, but…"_

"_But ma!" Duke said, joining them. "Last night when I asked if I could have a car all my own you said no!" His fake accent was British, making for a rather confusing jumble of conversations._

"_I don't think it's fair that she—"_

"—_Ah want ma bracelet, dammit!"_

"—_She's just a young girl—what's one more bracelet?"_

"_Ah want my bracelet!"_

"_Zut alores!"_

"_Shut up, you old—"  
"But Melinda, darling—"_

_This went on for a few more minutes before "Harold" and "Melinda" finally came to an agreement, Duke stomped off the stage and Joey finished fussing over "Alena"._

_Suddenly, Atemu grabbed a chair, climbed up onto it, and yelled over the crowd._

"_Ah don't want that bracelet no more! Ah wanna get married! Joey, will you marry me?" Then the whole thing came crashing down as he ducked to avoid a flying object, sending him careening to the ground with a muffled thump and laughter._

_The first class passengers, their faces red with rage and humiliation, merely huffed, harrumphed and excused themselves._

"_Bloody brilliant!" Joey howled as the performers stood on the stage again and whooped to the applause. Even shy-looking Miho joined them, blushing prettily at the cheers and whistles that filled the room._

"_Zee performance was a success!" Joey crowed, using the accent one more time before dropping it. Duke was dusting off his vest, winking at some ladies in the crowd and waving. Tristan was standing near Miho and Joey. The blonde handed him a beer and lifted it into the air, mirroring his companion._

_As for Atemu he just smirked, throwing a few winks of his own to the young ladies in the crowd._

_After all, what danger was there in such a harmless amount of fun?_

-x-

In retrospect, perhaps it had been a good thing. After all, one didn't get many chances to do something like that and get away with it. If he had been back in Europe he would have been mugged in an alley and left to die on orders of the very people he had offended.

And the Dartz threat never helped, either. Come to think of it, he could have done something like that anyway, since there were gangs and thugs coming after him regardless!

_Wonderful._

Though… he'd have _more _of them to worry about… This train of thought was going nowhere. What else did he have to think about now? His hands flew to the golden puzzle around his neck. Strange little thing… he frowned. Was it _warm_? Strange… Ah, it must have been pressed against his body for too long; it have most likely absorbed his own body heat.

"Atemu!"

Atemu blinked, pushing himself away from the rail and turning to see a blur of black and white hurling towards him before he suddenly found a Mokuba attached to him.

"Hey, Atemu! I told you I'd find you!" Mokuba said, grinning. "It was only a matter of time, right? I was on the decks up there when I saw you! My brother'll catch up to us in a minute. Hey, where's your hat?"

Atemu blinked. "Oh… I must have left it in my cabin," he said, reaching up to finger one silken golden bang.

"Heh." Mokuba looked up at his hair, giggling lightly. "It's… weird. And pretty. You're strange, Atemu." He then caught sight of the puzzle. "Wow! You didn't have that last time… Hey, did you see all the mini boats that are on board here?" Mokuba asked, eyes wide as he switched topics without a hitch. "They're… big! Well, not compared to… to this ship, but they're the biggest rowboats I've ever seen! What will they be for?"

"They're in case the ship sinks, Mokuba."

"But all the other passengers say this ship in unsinkable! My big brother says it's too good to be true."

"If it's too good to be true, then it usually isn't," Atemu said dryly. Mokuba looked at him funny, but he finally shrugged, joining the other at the rail, his arms barely reaching it.

"What will happen if this ships sinks?" He finally asked.

"I imagine that they'd evoke the _Birkenhead _Drill," came the reply.

"… The what?"

"The _Birkenhead _Drill," Atemu repeated, his brain not registering the fact that this child wouldn't know what he was talking about.

"Oh… What's that?"

Atemu looked surprised, and he was about to explain when someone beat him to it.

"Women and children first." He immediately stiffened, not turning but senses on alert. He recognized that voice, but it was fleeting. He could not put a face to it, and he did not like the fact that this individual had managed to sneak up on him without him hearing.

"Big brother!" Mokuba grinned, running to whoever it was with an excited tone of voice.

"Mokuba."

"Big brother, this is Atemu! The man I told you about? The one who helped me?"

Atemu's one handed rested on the puzzle, surprised to feel it getting even warmer.

"I see," the voice said. Atemu had to suppress a growl. Just as haughty as he'd expected a first-class passenger to be—even more arrogant.

"Atemu, come say hi!"

"I'd really—"

"Please?" He knew it. Just from the tone of voice he _knew it. _As soon as he turned around to look, Mokuba would be looking at them with those infuriating Yuugi Eyes.

The eyes, the eyes…

He looked.

_Damn!_

Atemu slowly turned, hand still on the puzzle.

Then all Hell broke loose. However, this time it was more metaphorical, as the only thing they did was glare at each other as if, by sheer strength of will, their adversary would suddenly incinerate on the spot or get their heads bitten off by a high-jumping shark.

_What's the word I'm looking for? Ah… irony._

"Well met then, Mr. Atemu."

"Sennen. Atemu Sennen. I assume you are Mr. Kaiba, then?" Atemu asked, trying to control his voice and match the cold disinterest shown in the rich man's tone.

"I'm so proud of you for figuring it out."

"I'm afraid my mental work is only as good as your ability to see what's right in front of you," Atemu replied.

"And that's suppose to mean…?"

"Sod off."

"Wonderful. Had I known it was you Mokuba had been going on about, I would have prohibited this a long time ago."

The glaring war was back on, this time with two times the ferocity, each of them trying to size up their opponent. Mokuba, literally stuck between them, glanced back and forth nervously.

"You two have… met?"

"Sennen has a rather interesting sense of direction."

"Almost as interesting as your sense of preconception."

"I think we're both insulting the same person."

"Now, now, Kaiba, I know you have some issues when it comes to nosing into other people's stuff, but let's not add 'irrational' to that list."

"Umm…" Mokuba shifted, breaking the spell that held the two older males.

Atemu sent the child a look, struggling with an apology. It never paid to insult the older brother of a child you got along with—at least up until that moment.

_Ruddy bastard._

Kaiba's eyes—_Mmm… lovely blue those are_—caught sight of the golden pyramid hanging around Atemu's neck.

"Lovely piece of jewelry. Where'd you steal it from?" he sneered.

"Here and there. See, I raid the storage rooms of rich individuals just for fun sometimes. This particular piece is Egyptian. I stole it from a pharaoh."

"I didn't expect anything more."

"Of course your wouldn't. Your nose is too far buried in your tea and crumpets to notice things like this," Atemu simpered. Kaiba's eye twitched, but other than that he remained still. He still wore the same white trench coat from yesterday, but this time it was undone.

"At least I'm not a low-born piece of third-class trash."

"Actually, big brother, Atemu is travelling in second-class," Mokuba piped up. Kaiba seem to relax when he spoke, something Atemu's sharp eyes picked up on immediately.

_Hmm…_

"My mistake then," Kaiba finally said, the cold tone back in place. "_Second _class."

Atemu's fists clenched. Somehow the way Kaiba had said it made it seem even worse.

"Steal your ticket?"

"No, actually. I saved up for it. Not that I expect you to understand, you know, you having your life served to you on a silver platter." His sharps words struck an unexpected home, and suddenly he felt Kaiba grab the front of his shirt, bringing his face close to his own.

_Now why does this seem vaguely familiar?_

He did not enjoy this, and he let the bitterness and sarcasm creep into his thoughts at the indignant way the taller—much taller—man was handling him with such ease. Curse his short stature!

"Listen, Sennen, if you knew _anything _about me you wouldn't be making such accusations."

Atemu gasped lightly, his eyes narrowing. Kaiba had grasped the chain of the puzzle!

"Big brother, put him down!" Mokuba said, his voice sounded distressed enough for the elder Kaiba to take notice, roughly thrusting Atemu to the side. The shorter man, not expecting this, landed on his knees roughly, hands braced in front of him. He picked himself up off the deck, growling.

"No brawling on deck, Mr. Kaiba. That's a public offense."

Kaiba shot daggers at him but said nothing.

_This meeting is off to a wonderful start._

"Big brother! Atemu! Can't you get along?" Mokuba cried in despair. "Please? You've only just met each other…"

"Actually, I met _Mr. Sennen _here back on land," Kaiba growled. Atemu's fists clenched. "Just flew out of one of the allies. Running from something?" he mocked.

Atemu cocked his head to the side, though his eyes were narrowed dangerously. "What did we day about saying out of each other's personal lives?"

"Oh? What's a guttersnipe like you got in the way of a personal life?" Kaiba growled.

"Stop!" Mokuba yelled, eyes misty. "Please! Nii-sama, leave Atemu alone! So what if he ran into you? Is it really such a big deal?" Atemu could tell Mokuba wanted to say something to him as well, only he couldn't think of how to word whatever it was he wanted to say.

The Eyes were back. Atemu groaned, but he relaxed himself, looking up at Kaiba, showing that he would comply for Mokuba's sake, but no other, and that the richer man certainly hadn't won this yet.

"I thought I'd never see those eyes again until I met up with my brother," Atemu said, chuckling lightly.

"You have a brother, Atemu?" Mokuba asked.

"Yes. He's married to a famous dancer in New York. I'm on my way to… visit…" Atemu kept his expression neutral. There was no need to mention anything about Dartz or his goons.

"What's his name?"

"Yuugi Mutou. His wife is Téa Mutou, though her stage name is Téa Gardner," he said, smiling to himself. He'd never ask his brother for a loan, even though he knew Yuugi would give it to him in a heartbeat.

He didn't need his younger, successful brother to know what he'd been up to to land himself in this trouble in the first place. Especially since Yuugi had worked so hard to provide for himself and his wife already. Atemu couldn't involve his brother.

"But you have different last names!"

"Yes, _Sennen. _Different last names," Kaiba challenged.

Atemu shrugged, hoping he did a good job of controlling his sudden bout of panic.

"I needed a new start. I didn't want people giving me special treatment just because my brother was married to a famous dancer," he said feebly.

_Right._

The young man shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, glancing around. The real reason? He didn't want Dartz contacting Yuugi or Téa in an effort to get to him. He was a powerful man… he could destroy their happiness. So a quick move, a change of name… Yami Mutou became Atemu Sennen. He was actually fairly surprised that Dartz hadn't made the connection between the two and gone after Yuugi to force Atemu to come up with the money sooner. They shared a striking resemblance to one another.

"Nii-sama took me to see Téa dance once! Is your brother seriously married to her? She's beautiful!" Mokuba said, eyes lighting up. Then he frowned.  
"But why aren't you travelling in first class, then? You must be wealthy! Didn't they buy your ticket?"

"Ah…" Atemu shrugged. "Surprise visit; I bought my own."

"That doesn't explain why you settled for second class, Sennen."

"Shut up, Kaiba. It doesn't concern you. I felt like trying something different. Everyone here was saying how staying in second class was supposed to be like staying in a first class hotel. I wanted to see if they were telling the truth."

"And?" Kaiba said, raising one brow.

"They were."

"Well then, Mr. Sennen, if you truly are what you say you are, surely you wouldn't mind joining us for a stroll through _first class_, hmm?"

"Oh, nii-sama! Maybe he can dine with us later?" Mokuba chirruped happily, his eyes sparkling.

_Shit._

"That is, unless you can't make it, hmm?"

Atemu felt his temper rise again at the rather obvious challenge.

But it was a double-edged sword. On one hand, if he didn't go, it would prove he was a coward, and that he was in second class for other reasons. In other words: the truth.

If he said yes he'd be subjected to the Upper Crust. He'd be the single fish in an ocean full of sharks. He'd be theirs to tear apart until there was nothing left… unless he put up a good act.

A lie.

"Name the time and the place," Atemu said, gritting his teeth together. "And I'll be there."

"No need." Kaiba waved his hand. Was that _irritation _flickering in his eyes? "You are presentable enough for a stroll, but you will need to dig up some finer garments for dinner. Of course, we may have to pretend you're our servant, for the authorities and other first class passengers on board don't particularly like the common folk mixing with the blue bloods," Kaiba drawled, "But we can always pretend you're a servant."

He was met with a flat glare of refusal.

"Or we can try and pass you off as another first class passenger."

Atemu's lip curled. "That'll be fine."

"Will it? As I said before: you'll need finer clothes. I trust you have some?" The millionaire's tone suggested he doubted Atemu had anything like that, even if he had apparently bought the story.

"Of course I do," Atemu said. His masquerade needed costumes, yes. And he had just the one.

"Wonderful, Mr. Sennen. We'll see you then."

-x-

"_We have secured a victory, my pharaoh, but at the cost of so many lives…"_

He frowned. They continued to contradict him so?

"_Tameri is safe, Mahado. That is all that matters."_

Ra was no longer high in the sky; the light he bestowed upon Kemet had long since vanished into the more ominous darkness of night, that time where all of mans' fear caught up to him. Inside, the Pharaoh's palace was silent. Back in the city, families were tending to wounded men, and heroes were being recognized. And for the kin of those who had died in battle, there was only sorrow and mourning as they prepared to face the rest of their lives without that particular person.

And he had ordered the charge that brought them to this.

"_My pharaoh?"_

"_Hn." _His tongue clicked; he made no sound that could be taken as a satisfactory reply. Instead, he turned back to the young healer who was working on his injuries, head tilting listlessly to the side.

They knew the price they would pay if they fought in his army, and at least their sacrifice hadn't been in vain.

"_You reckless, selfish, Ra-be-damned—"_

Interrupted, he looked up, meeting the furious eyes of his High Priest.

"_How could you have done something so stupid? You could have died!"_

"_Hush, Seth—I'm fine, aren't I?"_

He arched a brow as if to prove his point; drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair he had taken temporary refuge in. Seth was looking at his arm, which was currently wrapped in cloth from the elbow to his wrist, with a couple bandages snaked around his palm in between his thumb and his index finger to mask the gash on his hand. The golden wristband he usually wore had been set aside, still caked with dry blood.

Seth looked as if his head was about to explode.

"_What were you thinking?"_

He sighed, turning to everyone else in the room. Of course, he still had a couple other injuries to be treated, but he knew that look.

"_Excuse me," _he said, rising as he dusted off his war-worn tunic. Without a word he walked out of the room, Seth following silently until they entered his personal chambers.

And there he stopped, turned, and prepared to face the wrath of his High Priest.

The next thing he felt was a pair of hungry lips seeking his own.

"_Mmm… I thought you were mad at me, my priest."_

"_I am furious with you, Atemu…"_

Their mouths battled against each other, hungry, dominant… It was like Seth was a starving man and only Atemu could satisfy his hunger.

"_So very, very furious…"_

Atemu moaned as he felt Seth bite the skin on his neck and he tilted his head so that the other would have better access. Hands circled around his waist and he rested his arms on Seth's shoulders, head tilting back even more as Seth continued to bite and suck at sensitive junctures on his skin, especially around his collarbone.

"_By Ra, Seth, you insatiable—"_

He cut himself off as Seth suddenly bit down harshly before raising his lips to meet Atemu's in a bruising kiss, nibbling lightly on the pharaoh's lower lip.

"_Do you know… how worried I was… when you did that?"_

"_I think I like you better worried," _Atemu smirked, pulling Seth's head down for another kiss. This time they broke apart every few moments, savoring the anticipation before diving back in. _"You dropped that irritable mask of yours."_

"_Mask, pharaoh?" _Seth smirked against his petite lover before suddenly shoving him back into the wall, pinning his hands above his head by his wrists as he ran his own hand up his sovereign's thigh.

Atemu tried to bite back the moans and harsh pants as Seth's movements became more passionate; more teasing and deliberate.

"_Mm… yes… mask…"_

Seth didn't answer, instead choosing to tug at Atemu's tunic. _"I want this off. Now."_

"_Oh hush. I am wounded you know. Be gentle."_

"_You wouldn't be wounded if you hadn't—"_

Atemu took the opportunity to lower his hands teasingly down his High Priest's sides, purring in delight as Seth's eyes darkened to a dangerous sapphire blue with the renewed passion. He hummed lightly as he stepped even closer to the man in front of him; pressing his body up against the taller's with yet another lust-filled purr.

Seth growled, the sound ringing with a possessive edge that told anyone who might be listening that the young man in front of him was _his _and no other's.

"_Off," _he said again, lightly maneuvering the young pharaoh and pushing him back onto the bed.

"_Eager?"_

"_This is not a good time for any of your games, Atemu."_

"_My games?" _Atemu's reply was almost indignant, but he soon forgot the rest of his retort as Seth's hand slid up his leg and under his tunic before finally pulling the garment off, smirking in satisfaction.

"_Mmm… if only your people knew how much of a god you really are…"_

"_Shut up and kiss me, priest!"_

"_Forever, my reckless little pharaoh."_

[_"You know," _Atemu murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of Seth's chestnut brown hair from his eyes, _"that I am the only one allowed to see you like this, right?" _He pressed a chaste kiss to his lover's lips. _"If anyone else has had the pleasure of even seeing you in such a state, I'm afraid I'd have to kill them."_] For the next chapter.


End file.
